


i quit my dreaming (the moment that i found you)

by phanetixs



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Also Angst apparently, Fluff, M/M, Profound realisations, TATINOF Dublin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 21:30:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10396575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phanetixs/pseuds/phanetixs
Summary: Phil pulls back when Dan’s teary-eyed and staring at the ceiling. “Whatever you’re worrying about,don’t. We’ll be ok.”Or, the end of TATINOF and its implications.





	

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this in an hour so this might suck, who knows
> 
> title from unfucktheworld by Angel Olsen

Dan wakes up in the Dublin hotel room, 5 in the morning and dawn breaking at the far end of their view, morning light seeping through the cracks in the blinds. He feels the rush of adrenaline he’d been expecting; heart rate quickening and mind whirring like the anxiety waking up with the Sun. Only consoled by the reassuring hand around his waist, gripping at the soft skin. 

“Go back to sleep,” Phil tells him gruffly, decidedly Not in tune with Dan’s worry. If everything will be ok at the end and the idea that it’ll all- their career, finances, bigger house tucked away in the fringes of London- collapse after tonight.

His mouth feels dry and his eyes darting over the luxuries in the room. The _shared_ queen bed and some letters from the last meet-and-greet. Happy, happy, _happy_ must mean the sad is on the horizon, Dan thinks. 

“In a bit,” Dan struggles to get out at the end, and Phil cracks an eye open. Fond and morning fog in equal measure. 

“ _Dan._ ” Phil’d expected it too. He plants a soft kiss on Dan’s temple, beside where he knows the demons lie, and shushes him back to sleep. Simple, effective; Phil snoring lightly in his ear. And Dan surreptitiously pulls up the duvet over the both of them and breathes in the scent of Phil’s skin. Slow and steady.

Reliable, unlike the fluctuation of subscriber counts and tour reviews. 

Dan thinks he can sleep some more. 

 

-

 

They properly wake up, then, at 10. Dan nestled in Phil’s arms and the pounding mugginess of Dublin winter evident. Phil’s looking at him, though, eyes unfocused because he doesn’t have his glasses on and usually waits for Dan to grapple at the bedside drawer and place it gently on before kissing him awake. 

“He- _llo_ ,” Dan says, words breaking off when Phil abruptly starts sucking on his neck enough to leave as much of a mark as allowed.

“You’re in a good mood,” he jokes, revelling in the way Phil seems to have a single-minded objective this morning. Not that Dan’s complaining: the tour hasn’t given them much down time. Even _if_ they’ve spent all day everyday aching for more of a touch than nudges to the waist and fingers overlapping during signings.

But, Dan figures after a bit, they won’t have much of a problem after today. 

When it all ends.

Phil pulls back when Dan’s teary-eyed and staring at the ceiling. “Whatever you’re worrying about, _don’t._ We’ll be ok.” It’s definitive and sure. But Dan’s already miles away and thinking of alternative plans for careers; if Asda would take him back after his career crashes and burns after this. When the hype of _Dan-and-Phil_ is gone, along with the gold jackets and giant microwave.

Still, he lets Phil trail his kisses down, coax two orgasms out of him and by the end, he feels sated; worried. Always.

 

-

 

It’s lunch when he properly digests his anxiety. Phil’s next to him, they’re in a small pub somewhere along Grafton Street and it’s the two of them; Martyn and Cornelia flitting off for a picnic by a pond nearby. There’s a beat of silence between one conversation about AHS and the next and Dan heaves a deep breath.

“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you, or?” Phil asks, as earnest as possible when munching on chips. Waits patiently for an answer, knowing fully well how meticulous Dan’s thought process usually is.

How during the turbulent times of years past, Phil waited months before Dan would come up with a solid answer for him, that _yes, I love you and I need you forever._ Dan thinks it’ll do Phil good with some waiting.  

So, he swallows his bite of sandwich and looks out the frosted window. The sky grey and downcast, a distended grey belly of cloud that is refusing to split. Marianne texts them saying rain is forecasted for their show tonight but there’s slight Sun peeking when Dan finally tells him:

“What’re we going to do _next_?” The true existentialist question. Complete with the pondering look, cup of brew swirling in the white cup next to him.

Phil laughs, motions to take a photo. “You’re golden like this,” and he’s half-laughing when Dan poses expressively for the camera. Enough to make Dan laugh as well. 

“Hm,” Phil pockets his phone. Smiles. “Next will be more of _this_ , Dan. Laughing, creep shot wars and the cuddling under blankets when we inevitably don’t leave the house for days.” He paints a picture of life before full steam ahead back in early 2014. When they’d first decided about the book, the tour and it all. Ready or not here we come.

Phil takes Dan’s palm in his. “And _next_ will be working on that house, won’t we; doggo up and down our front garden, barbecues on Friday nights. Pints on Sundays and walks along Southbank.” _Us, together._ The unspoken words meant.

Dan feels Phil’s thumb rub down his _Life_ line, branching into where his _Love_ line is. Sweet and soft.

“I _love_ you.” He says aloud but then he can’t avoid the nerves that comes with it.

 

-

 

Phil’s smiling down at his phone, Marianne a bit ahead chatting to Kaley. They’re some kilometres from the venue, and honestly, leaving Dan alone with his thoughts isn’t the best idea right now. He mentally wills away the bitter feeling in his throat when the cold air brushes against his cheeks. It’s not raining but the cold is loud and overwhelming.  

He doesn’t know who Phil’s talking to. His mind traitorously whispers it’s Charlie; 2009 all over again. It’s _a_ Charlie who makes Phil happy; smiling bright; never put Phil through a three year-long whirlwind to upgrade their careers from “just YouTube sensations to YouTube _super_ fucking _stars_ , Phil”.

It’s not Charlie, but it _could_ be; that’s the thing.

Dan establishes the root of the problem a few minutes into their walk when he watches a small girl, not more than five, easing a bird with a healing wing back out on its own. The bird flutters, spins, slams into a tree branch. 

2013 was rest and recuperation. It was not caring and mornings spent relearning and evenings of acceptance and away from routine denial. It was life getting _better;_ easing their way back into _them_ and the dream-like reality of the nineteen year old on Skype to _the_ AmazingPhil.

Years later they’re back to where they should be and then Dan enthusiastically introduces the idea of career monetisation and _look at what these creators are doing, Phil!_

Dan belatedly realises- _very_ belatedly, as in, now, as they stand on the edge of the precipice- that he hadn’t stopped to check if this was all what _Phil_ really wanted. If Phil _actually_ wanted the white picket fence instead of a massive tour bus around America. If Phil, in the thick of March through May, August then December, wanted _Dan Howell_ and not _Dan_ of _Dan-and-Phil brand_ onstage next to him. 

He stops, chokes, thinks of the million possibilities. Of the multitude of Charlies and missed signals. What if, despite all that Phil had said back at the pub, Phil won’t want Dan after this is all _over_. And that Phil kept going because of Dan’s determination and _now_.

He’s a bit tipsy from the bit of vodka but things are jarring together faster than Dan can catch up with them.

“Dan, y’alright?” Dan notices he’s shaking, frozen in place on the pavement steps away from where the end of an _era_ is due. 

Phil looks worried behind thick-rimmed glasses and _who was he texting_ , Dan feels the 2012 in him begging to ask. They’re not moving forward, they’re going back; cuddles and late nights of editing and mornings with only each other; 2013.

But then, like the bird: they never really healed to begin with.

 

-

 

“You’re still trembling,” says Phil, wrapping a blanket around Dan. “Y’not falling ill, are you?” And Phil’s unsurprisingly acting how he’s always been; gentle and Sun; and it’s _frustrating._ Everything is. He feels a headache set in.

“Anything you want me to know about?” he tries again, knocks his fingers against Dan’s temple. Demons lurch. His knuckles are warm but do nothing to offset how distant Dan feels in this moment. They _should_ talk; they always needed to. But verbalising feelings has never been anyone’s strong suit- and more often than not, Dan looks for alternatives _around_ the situation than tackling them head on.

Enter TATINOF, stage right. 

It’s about time things eventually resurface; hunger apparent.

“S’fine. Just the jitters.” Which is the understatement of the century but it’ll do. What with the migraine looming. Dan wants to sleep but there’s a signing in half an hour. 

Phil guides Dan onto his chest and lets him lie there; ten minutes, lights off and alarm set. All Dan needs.

 

-

 

“Is there something wrong with _us_ ,” Dan asks, later in their dressing room. It’s almost curtain call and he hasn’t managed to stave off the headache despite the aspirin. Phil had been watching Dan for a little while so Dan knows he heard the question. Whether or not he deems it important enough to answer is a different worry.

Phil takes the weight off. “What do you mean?”

“As in,” Dan struggles to find the words. “ _Us._ After this, we won’t be alright.” He says it as a statement because it’s true, isn’t it? He’s had all this time to be a better boyfriend and partner and he doesn’t fucking listen to anyone else, he wants Phil to say. 

Phil’s quiet and the silence is an answer in itself. 

“This was a _mistake_.” Dan reiterates, and he means this _world_ of Dan and Phil. Three years in the making. Large and superfluous and putting more of an emphasis on _mate_ than the _soulmate_ that precedes it. Mistake, all of it. 

He hears the creak of a chair. Phil’s getting up to leave, surely.

“Dan,” He hears instead Phil ruffling through a bag in the corner. 

They’re letters from the hotel room earlier.

“What’s _not_ a mistake is _you and me_ saving lives through these things we do for the Internet. More importantly, it’s not a mistake that I decided to do this with _you;_ my best friend, creative partner and man I am going to marry, no matter what. I _knew_ what I was getting into, and I did because it has always been and will always be _you_ , Dan.” 

“No, but-“ Dan’s stubborn to a fault. 

Lights dim and it’s time to go. _You’ll get it,_ Phil whispers when they’re in the microwave and waiting for their cue.

 

 

-

 

He gets it, at the end. A lot of it. With increasing clarity.

Weird Kid has Dan enraptured because with it being the last, he cares so much more. He is caught up by Phil’s resounding confidence on stage and how 2007 Phil would be so proud of the man he is today. 

Dil: the not-biological son of Dan and Phil that he holds a special place in their hearts, indefinitely;  at least until virtual babies are born and they’re both able to screw up _their_ outfits as well. 

The Internet Is Here is last and infinitely more important than the rest. He fleetingly remembers writing it late night, early morning before the production meeting. Phil’s hand on Dan’s lower back through it, fitting word-by-word painstakingly until they made sense. Their ode to the Internet and how it brought them together in the beginning, at the end. 

The last song, last kick of the leg, last harmonisation, brings about an important realisation for Dan. On a day where many slithered their way in and nibbled at Dan’s worry. This is most important, he thinks, and it’s right then that it comes on stage, his home for the last year and a half.

And at the end, it’s this: Phil next to him, dancing alongside Dan like he’d rather be nowhere else, with no one else. Pride gleaming off his features and smile plastered wide and genuine. No thoughts of other Charlies but the Dan by his side and fans singing along to the sounds they planned _together._

 _Us. You and me. Forever_. 

Tears well up, curtains close and Phil wiping off the moisture afterwards. 

“You get it yet?” Phil asks, teasingly. Fonder, and he’s crying too. In fact, half the staff are in tears or on the brink. And it’s a sign that they care; they’re invested; _they_ think everything will be alright too. And Dan was wrong in thinking this _universe_ will up and ditch them once they’re back home in London and slumbering sweetly in each other’s embrace.

It might, one day, but it doesn’t have to be today.

Phil pulls Dan into a tight hug that promises a lot more tomorrows, instead. 

 

-

 

TATINOF; end of era, purveyor of beginnings. 2017 Dan waking up _happy,_ with Phil snuffling lightly in his ear: always.

 

**Author's Note:**

> tell me what you think? i usually don't write angst but i've been having a rough week and writing calms me down immensely aha im phanetixs on tumblr and twitter if you wanna chat :)


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